There is something outrageously invigorating about flying west as the sun is setting. Something about traveling with the same sunset for hours upon hours with unobtrusive color change. Something so natural and so beautiful just makes you wonder how it's even possible to be a jerk, to be unforgiving, to take things for granted. On that plane, you have reversed time - a continued ending that remains just as beautiful as the hour before. As it minutely descends with every hour, the colors get deeper and deeper, your gaze more intent, questioning if there really ever will be an end or not. But it doesn't really matter, you're too captivated to care. If it does draw to a close, the plane eventually stops and the standard and equal exchange of darkness to light takes half the time it took to change light into darkness.

Time travel is beautiful. Fly more. Write more.